


Something to believe in

by yourdadjustcallsmeKatyUNHhhh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Fluff, Grantaire gets a lead and the boys are proud of him, Grantaire is a theatre kid, M/M, Newsies - Freeform, Opening Night, Pining, caramel macchiatos and hazelnut lattes, he is also bad at communicating, west end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29684577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourdadjustcallsmeKatyUNHhhh/pseuds/yourdadjustcallsmeKatyUNHhhh
Summary: Grantaire gets his dream role in a West End production.His friends however, have no idea that Grantaire can even sing.An AU where Grantaire is a theatre kid at a top drama school, gets his big break, all whilst his friends think he’s some university dropout. Spoiler alert- they all still come to his opening night.
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac/Jean Prouvaire, Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	Something to believe in

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this au because i’m projecting my dreams onto my comfort character okay. Also, you can’t tell me that Grantaire wouldn’t make a fantastic Jack Kelly.

It wasn’t that Grantaire kept his degree a secret. It was just that he never openly told anyone he was on the triple threat musical theatre course at the top drama school in the country.

He was known to frequent the stage at the Musain on karaoke night, belting out a drunk rendition of summer nights with Eponine as his Sandy. Known for his impressive footwork when the gang went out clubbing that only Grantaire could seem to manage with far too many drinks inside of him. Hell, he was even known for his year 8 pre-pubescent performance as Romeo at secondary school, that Joly would never let him live down. At this point, it was everyone else’s fault that they hadn’t yet put two and two together.

In fact, it was only Eponine who knew about Grantaire’s course from the start. He had known her ever since their pre-school days, so naturally, when Grantaire’s audition came around, she became the obvious choice for some well-meaning but harsh critique. She was there when he got the call, offering a full scholarship for the duration of his course, and she had also been in the audience at his second year showcase, when an agent saw a spark in the young student, and decided to sign him a year early.

And now in his third and final year, Grantaire was happy. He was living in a small but comfortable apartment in Kensington with his friend and fellow musical theatre student Courfeyrac and he was set to graduate in a few months at the top of his class and with a renowned agent. Life was good. 

Courfeyrac found out about Grantaire’s little secret first. It was the start of 3rd year. Courf was at a rival drama school, only a tube ride away from Grantaire’s school and to his dismay, the two principles thought it would be a fantastic idea to hold a joint masterclass at R’s school. It was mandatory and there was no way to get out of it. Grantaire was at the barre stretching, closed his eyes in anticipation when he saw the familiar brunet curls and toothy grin that greeted him at weekly meetings come through the door, and let out a heavy sigh once Courf clocked him and let out a cackle that reverberated through the dance studio. 

A few students had looked over judgementally, shooting Courf a dirty look as he continued wheezing, pointing at Grantaire as he scampered over. Continuing his plies, he simply ignored the laughing boy.

“Are you telling me that I have lived with you for a whole month, known you for two years and assumed you were doing some shitty boring degree at UCL or something” He finally managed to splutter out, eyes shining with amusement. Grantaire grinned and rolled his eyes as Courf also took the barre, facing him as they both stretched. “Why did you not tell me that you’re attending the one school I got rejected from.”

Courfeyrac couldn’t stop the bemused grin that graced his face, internally working out all of the ways he could bully Grantaire for his obvious insecurity in his degree choice. Courfeyrac was out and proud, and definitely didn’t hide his love for performing. Taire on the other hand, despite being out, had some desperate need to prove himself to his social justice friends, and believed that not contributing in meetings on top of doing a degree that didn’t help ‘the cause’ would leave his friends believing Grantaire was truly good for nothing. That was probably why he kept his degree secret.

And it took a lot of bribery to force Courfeyrac to keep that secret.

The truth came out in January. It was a Monday morning and the sound of his phone ringing obnoxiously loud was enough to tear Grantaire’s eyes open and blearily check the time. He had no morning classes so it seemed almost cruel that whoever the culprit was decided to wake him at 8:50. It took a few seconds of him cluelessly staring at the caller ID saying ‘Mandy- agent’ and a muffled shout of “R turn that thing off or so god help you” from his housemates room until Grantaire jumped into action and accepted, pressing the phone to his ear.

“You better have a damn good reason for calling me this early” his morning voice croaked out, receiving a wide awake giggle on the other side.

“You best believe I do my darling. Do you have a class this afternoon?” She teasingly started.

Grantaire’s heart stopped high in his chest as was routine whenever he got these calls. Usually auditions ended in disappointment but the calls always excited him none the less.

“Tap at 1, why?” he urged, sitting up in bed and suddenly feeling wide awake. He swallowed thickly.

“Get your ass down to the Piccadilly theatre at half 12. They wanna see you for Jack Kelly.”

It took a few seconds of stunned silence and Grantaire’s brain working in overdrive to process what his agent had said. Jack Kelly. Newsies. Piccadilly theatre. Oh shit.

“What- I- wait how did you manage to get me that audition” he whispered in astonishment. He remembered the first time he had met Mandy, shortly after second year showcase. He had sat in her office, signing the contract as she questioned him on what roles he most wished to play. The answer was on his tongue straight away. Jack Kelly in Newsies. He remembered the way Mandy cocked her eyebrow, in a way that was almost impossible to read. From that moment, Grantaire became her most exciting client yet.

He breathlessly made his way through the itinery over the phone, mentally reminding himself to pack both his tap and jazz shoes before shakily hanging up, letting out a whoop that was loud enough to wake up his whole apartment block, let alone the poor sleep deprived drama student next door to him.

“Rufus Grantaire I swear to fuck” Courfeyrac started, the rest becoming muffled noise as Grantaire sprinted into the shower. He had 3 and a bit hours to prepare himself...

-

He exited the tube station, gym bag digging into his side uncomfortably after the painfully busy tube. The fresh air was welcomed from the boy, whose own nervous, shallow breaths weren’t doing anything for him. He knew exactly the way to get to the theatre, he’d walked past it hundreds of times, along the strip of road which held the majority of West End theatres. As he pushed open the heavy doors, he had already eyed a milkshake bar across the road for his post-audition treat afterwards.

After signing in with a bored looking front of house lady, he was led with 30 other boys to a studio upstairs to stretch and prepare. Grantaire had already clocked a few boys from his drama school. They were a couple of years older than him and graduated years before. A few he had met at open call auditions and offered them a smile of recognition. It was a spoken fact in theatre that everyone knew everyone. It was very hard to get away with going to an audition without seeing at least one person who had beat you out on a job previously. Those seasoned professionals were sprinkled in with the boys currently stretching on the barre.

Clutching the piece of paper the woman on reception had given him, Grantaire checked it for maybe the 10th time. Dancing was first. Some tap choreo from ‘King of New York’ and some more lyrical stuff- perhaps ‘Seize the day’? After that, the panel would cut people until left with half. Only then would they hear them sing.

A loud whistle had broken up the mumbled chatter and eager eyes fell on the short woman stood at the door, grinning wildly at them all.

“Welcome to auditions boys. Get ready for the hardest hour of your life.”

-

And that was no understatement. As Grantaire shuffled out of the theatre at 3pm, body aching in places he didn’t even realise was possible, all he could think about was his warm duvet waiting at home to wrap him up in a well deserved cuddle. Grantaire was used to dancing- found the audition routines easy enough, yet his stamina had truly been tested. No drama school would have prepared him for the realisation of the effort he would have to put in 8 shows a week if he was to get the role. He’d been put at the front of the dance line, a real confidence booster for him, and had even had the choreographer compliment him on his lines, to which the director had scribbled something down quickly afterwards. He’d survived the cuts, and a few minutes later made it into the singing room, belting a confident performance of the same song he had used for every audition. He knew it like the back of his hand, so when leaving, he was certain he had given a good enough performance to not completely bomb it and blacklist his name for the rest of his career.

Grantaire had deserted his milkshake bar idea after glancing over and seeing a queue extend out of the door and after a few moments deliberation, he had decided to make his way over to the Musain. If he timed it right, he would arrive just as Enjolras’ 3:30pm lecture ended. It was an unspoken fact that the politics student enjoyed the ambience of the Musain enough to write his lecture notes up religiously every Monday afternoon. It was also an unspoken fact that Grantaire was head over heels for the golden haired boy. Perhaps if he played his cards right, Enj might even engage in conversation with him today.

It was only a short tube ride; 2 stop in a much quieter carriage than before. His legs thanked him as he spied some empty seats and promptly sat down. The whole time, he was trying to keep his mind from the bloody audition. The first piece of advice he had got from Mandy was to never think about an audition after you had done it- it’s out of your control. Grantaire had clicked onto that idea 10 failed auditions later, but something about this particular show, this particular role, left a shaking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Caffeine along with the adrenaline from hours of dancing probably wasn’t the best combination but Grantaire was not prepared to sacrifice his hazelnut latte on a Monday afternoon. Not when he spied Musichetta behind the bar, with the fact that she made the best lattes in central london. She even drew the letter ‘R’ on the foam for him every time. Her dark spiral curls were bouncing behind the counter, grabbing the last slice of pecan pie for the customer before him when she caught R’s eye and flashed him a wide smile.

“If it isn’t my favourite customer in the whole world.” She sang, already reaching for the Monin syrup as Grantaire rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter.

“Oh Chetta, I bet you say that to all of the boys.” He played along, winking just as the doorbell chimed. He snuck a look just as the barista turned to grab the oat milk Grantaire liked. A head of golden curls. Tired eyes. It was his Enjolras.

“Add on grumpy guts’ order for me, I’m feeling generous” He smiled, just as Enjolras, who hadn’t yet spied either of them (too busy furiously typing out an email) joined the back of the small queue. Musichetta obliged, with a knowing smirk.

She placed the two orders in front of the brunet. One hazelnut latte and one caramel macchiato for golden boy. He promptly tipped, blew Chetta a kiss, and whistled loud enough for Enjolras to look up for a moment, cast him a quick smile, and make his way over to the table with the drinks.

“Did Chetta tell you I drink Caramel Macchiatos?” He grimaced, sliding into the seat opposite.

“Well you don’t exactly have black no sugars written all over you.” In fact, Grantaire was almost certain he had seen Enjolras order a hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows before after a particularly tiring meeting. He decided not to mention it out of the kindness of his heart.

“Why are you sweaty?” Enjolras asked suddenly. He had a habit of doing that. The group of friends had decided it was a result of Enjolras’ shocking social skills. The boy could speak to crowds of thousands but could barely hold a conversation sometimes.

“Gym” Grantaire had answered, equally blunt, and that had been sufficient enough for the blond, who took a sip of his drink and exhaled in bliss. Grantaire savoured that look rather guiltily, butterflies matching the ones of adrenaline from earlier. “How was class?” he asked. He needed a change in subject before Enjolras asked more questions about his so called gym session.

“It was shit. I’m not feeling fergalicious today” Enjolras shrugged, Grantaire grinning. It appeared Enjolras was slowly incorporating his and Courfeyrac’s vocabulary into his own. It was the emotional toll of having the pair of them in their ‘Les Amis’ group chat. He could fondly remember being kicked out on more than one occasion for sending ‘Gemma Collins Best Bits’ repeatedly. Enjolras was not impressed.

Their conversation continued for a while, long after the dregs of caramel syrup at the bottom of the cups had gone cold. A strict warning to be on time to game night at his and Combeferres tomorrow and a thank you for the coffee was all Grantaire was left with as the blond whisked out of the door quicker than he had came in. He decided he should probably follow suit and get back home before it got too dark.

-

“Courf!” He yelled, slamming the door shut and making his way to his roommates bedroom door. He pushed it open, being met with a view of Comberre, slightly more than he wanted to see actually, cuddled next to his curly haired best friend.

“Ew get a room” he commented, perching on the edge of his bed. He was fortunate enough to walk in after whatever him and his boyfriend had been up to rather than during.

“Yeah I’ve got one and you’re sat in it.” The boy huffed, smacking his pillow around his head before promptly laying back against Combeferre’s bare chest. Grantaire wasn’t fussed- he’d seen Ferre a lot more exposed than he was currently. “You’re sweaty and you’ve been out all day, where were you?” Courf questioned, clearly taking in Grantaire’s scruffy appearance, and the smell that very much reminded him to get in the shower asap.

“Gym” he smirked. Courfeyrac seemed to get the hint, sending a wink his way, promising to ask him more about the ‘gym’ later. Combeferre, absentmindedly scrolling on his phone with his glasses perched at the edge of his nose, couldn’t have looked less bothered.

“Pizza for tea!” Grantaire yelled as he step-ball changed out of the room, to the sniggers of his roommate and a very confused expression left on his boyfriends face.

-

It was game night when Grantaire got his next call.

He was 5 minutes early to his friends’ flat, with a shit eating grin painted to his face ready for when Enjolras opened the front door. He loved proving the blond wrong, and this was no exception; relishing the wide eyes of pure amazement as he clocked that it was Grantaire who casually sauntered into his flat.

“You’re early.” He remarked once he followed Grantaire into the kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine from the bottle he had bought. It had become somewhat of a tradition to bring alcohol to whoever was hosting game night. It usually ended messily, with the whole of Les Amis vowing the next morning to never drink again.

“Ta” he smiled, taking the glass of red. As his fingers brushed the cold, delicate skin of Enjolras, he felt his breath hitch for a moment, catching an awkward gaze with the boy in question, who was looking at him with an expression which was completely unreadable in classic Enjolras form. He took a huge gulp to distract himself, which he almost choked on.

A ring from the doorbell seemed to catch them both from their silent trances, and in a messy fashion, both reached to get the door. Grantaire cursed how small Enjolras’ damned hallway was as they both mumbled apologies, shuffling awkwardly out of the others way. It was Enjolras who got the door.

“Hey whores” Eponine chimed, walzing in with Combeferre and Courfeyrac in towe. Despite Combeferre actually living with Enjolras in the flat they shared, he decided in classic simp fashion to pick Courfeyrac up from home so they could walk together. Grantaire gagged at the thought.

She slammed a few bottles of Rosé on the countertop before jumping on the sofa like she had done hundreds of times before. They were an odd pair but Enjolras and Eponine were a lot closer than everyone presumed. It was Eponine who originally dragged Grantaire along to Enjolras’s meetings because the blond had been whining to her about the low attendance in the previous weeks. Grantaire had her to both thank and blame for his hyper fixation.

Less than 30 minutes later, the whole group had crammed into the white and green themed living room that belonged to the two nerds, and had already got their hands on the box of cards against humanity that Bahorel had bought. Glasses had been poured for everyone and the mood was beginning to lift from the previous tension that Grantaire was entirely to blame for.

“Okay okay I got a good one” Joly slurred, unable to keep the giggles from him as he read his own joke. Grantaire could help but laugh with him, despite not even seeing the card he was playing. “What brings out the inner child in me?” He read, biting his lip to stop erupting. There was a pause. “A miscarriage.”

At that point everyone had exploded. Courfeyrac had made the sorry mistake of taking a sip of red wine as that card was being read, and somehow that made the joke even funnier. A tally had been added to Joly’s name.

“No no, I’ve got a great one” came from Cosette, as she smiled evilly from her place on the sofa next to Marius. “What brought the orgy to a grinding halt?”

“Don’t you dare!” Feuilly laughed. He’d snuck a look at the card he knew the blonde was going to use as he dished them out. Cosette just laughed harder as she spluttered “Child protection services”

“I’ve got the best one.” Enjolras started, looking at the new black card that lay on the coffee table. The room quietened down from their laughter as he read, “charades was ruined when my mom had to act out...” a smirk hinted at the corner of his eyes as his bright blue eyes shot up, glinting. “An oedipus complex.”

The group roared, with Courfeyrac even smacking Enjolras on the back and congratulated him for being funny. Grantaire couldn’t keep the smile from his tipsy lips, burying his head in his hands to hide the fact that he wasn’t just smiling at the joke, but also at the man who told it. His smile was far too fond for everyone to see.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and as he checked the number, the smile dropped from his face. Only Eponine seemed to clock it as he met her eyes across the room of laughing students. He got up, tiptoeing through the group and heading to the kitchen, Eponine sneakily following behind him. He took a deep breath before answering.

“Hey Mandy.” His voice came out slightly too breathy to be causal. He knew what a phone call from his agent meant. Eponine got closer to him to try and hear what she was saying through the loud laughter of the group coming from the other room.

Thankfully her voice sounded chipper, and Grantaire held his baited breath. “R sweetheart, I’m calling about yesterday’s audition.”

Like he didn’t know that already. Eponine looked excitedly up at him through her deep brown eyes. He had called her last night to tell her everything and she had been almost as excited for him as he was. “And...” Grantaire urged. He felt his arm shaking slightly.

“They want you for a recall darling. Tomorrow. It’s multiple rounds and after, I should get a decision by next week.”

Oh god.

Eponine scrawled down the details on a scrap bit of paper on Enjolras’ kitchen side as Grantaire nodded along to Mandy’s instructions. She’d send the scene over- they want a chemistry test- they want him singing ‘Santa Fé.’ Grantaire could barely focus and he was thankful he had Eponine listening as he was certain he wouldn’t remember any of the small details after this. Once he finally ended the call, Eponine engulfed him in a huge hug.

“I’m so proud of you.”

“I havent got the part yet” he muffled into her threadbare jumper that smelt comfortingly like cigarettes and the perfume she wore. He felt suddenly overcome with emotion as happy tears threatened to spill from his eyes. She leaned back, placing both of her cold hands on Grantaire’s cheeks and looked him dead in the eye.

“It’s an achievement getting this far already. Stop being pessimistic-“

“Hey guys where’s the-“ Enjolras had swung the door open, catching a teary eyed Grantaire in Eponine’s hold. “Grantaire what’s wrong?” He asked abruptly, frowning at his glassy eyes that he’d clearly mistaken for something else entirely.

Grantaire didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell the truth. Not yet at least. Not until he knew if he’d got this dammed part or not. It was a lot of information to also unload on a tipsy Enjolras, who for 2 years, had thought Grantaire was at UCL doing a useless degree or something. In fact, he may have even believed he didn’t go to university at all.

“Oh it’s nothing. Honestly. Don’t worry about it.” He forced a smile, swallowed his guilt and slipped past the pair who were staring blankly at him as he exited the kitchen. He prayed to the Gods above that Eponine’s friendship with Enjolras wouldn’t mean she snaked him out.

The group had hardly noticed his absence as he made his way back in the front room. They were howling at a card Bosseut had played, clearly too drunk understand the joke in it’s entirety. In fact, Marius had already passed out on one of the sofas and it was only 10:45.

The room felt too hot, whether that be from the nerves that had settled at the pit of his stomach and would stay there until his audition was complete, or from the sudden sobriety that had encompassed him from the phone call. He didn’t care which it was, just grabbed his coat and opened the doors to the balcony, shutting them gently behind him.

The gentle wind from 12 floors up was exactly what he needed as he gazed over the London skyline. Nighttime in london was never peaceful, but strangely, this was the calmest he’d felt all day. The cars below him felt like white noise and he closed his eyes and let out a shivering breath he had been holding in for far too long.

“Am I interrupting?” 

The voice was recognisable, and the cynic turned to see Enjolras. His eyes were concerned, and his brow etched a frown of worry. The look was normally reserved for one of the others. Never for Grantaire. Suddenly the silence felt all too loud.

But Grantaire was an adult. He had to grow a pair and talk to him for gods sake, even if it meant concealing his pining for the politics student for the rest of his life.

“Not at all.” He smiled, turning back to the view of London. “You don’t have to stay out here with me you know. I bet it’s a lot more fun back inside.”

“Dont be an idiot Grantaire.” Enjolras muttered gently, trying his hardest to step over the 2 wooden chairs on the balcony as gracefully as he could. It took a a few stumbles and clattering furniture for Grantaire to roll his eyes and extend his arm out for the ever elegant Enjolras to grab. And he meant that as sarcastically as possible. Once he’d safely made his way to Grantaire’s side, slightly too close for the brunet to concentrate, he finished. “I didnt want you to stand out here on your own.”

“Careful Apollo,” Grantaire teased. “You almost sound like you care about me.” Enjolras however, didn’t get the joke.

“Of course I do.” He said, finally turning to look him in the eyes, blue meeting brown in a stare that caught Grantaire’s breath in his throat. He softened his stoic glance, offering a tiny smile. “I care about you a lot.”

Grantaire didn’t say anything in reply. He feared nothing more than a squeak would come out if he tried. Instead, he gave a small smile back. A smile that contained all the pain of knowing the man in front of him would never care for him in the way he truly wanted.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Enjolras attempted again, and Grantaire let out a low chuckle which sent a whisp of air from his mouth.

“I promise you nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all. I just can’t say anything about what it was about yet.”

It was as good as he could do. If he got the part, he’d come clean. If he didn’t, then there were no expectations of him that he would have broken. It was much easier that way.

“Then I’ll wait.” Enjolras said after a moment to reflect. Grantaire didn’t know if it was the remaining alcohol in him, or simply the high of being alone with Apollo, but he shook his head fondly, using the last of his drunken courage and resolving to lean his head against the relaxed shoulder of the taller man. He looked up at him with wide eyes, like he’d hung all of the stars in the sky.

“Okay.” He whispered.

And that night, as Grantaire finally crawled into bed, he checked his phone to see a message that made his heart soar.

Apollo: I’ll be waiting. E x


End file.
